


Breakfast Time

by AlphaMercy



Category: Borderlands
Genre: M/M, but only in the food way, i blame gemo and the rhack trash group ok, sort of fluffly, this is meme king jack and waffles, thx guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-07-16 13:40:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7270549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlphaMercy/pseuds/AlphaMercy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rhys hates mornings, Jack makes breakfast, and Rhys wants to go back to bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breakfast Time

**Author's Note:**

> like i said, i blame [gemodawn](http://gemodawn.tumblr.com/post/146272090877/meme-king-jack-strikes-again-with-waffles-blame) and the rhack trash group. literally wrote this at 12 am so enjoy

It’s morning and Rhys is a tired mess of bleary eyes and flushed skin. He’s in his boxers, a tee shirt hastily thrown on before he left his room. Angel is in the living room, lazed on the couch half awake, watching the TV with dead eyes. Jack is somewhere in the house, Rhys can hear him singing happily in Spanish as he does whatever. 

Rhys is still blurry-eyed, face stuck in a position ‘kill me now’ most people keep upon waking. He stumbles into the kitchen, foot catching on a chair leg. Rhys catches himself on the table, used to this type of thing since he was small. Once he’s upright, he heads to the coffee machine, staring at the buttons for a good  two minutes until the meanings process and he can comprehend what to do. You think he’d be able to remember something so simple after two years, but Rhys was not a morning person

He went through his routine slowly, making sure the grounds didn’t spill anywhere, and that the pot was actually underneath the hole where the coffee came out.

“Aw, Rhysie you look dead inside!” Was Jack’s first comment as he steps, humming, through the doorway.

Rhys just groans and mumbles something like ‘thanks you too’ as he watches the coffee pour, slowly, into the pot. Jack is moving around the kitchen, a spring in his step, and Rhys is like, thirty one percent sure he hates him. The other sixty nine is a want for coffee, punctured by the growl of his stomach and the need for food.

“Don’tcha worry kitten, I’ve got you covered!” Jack tells him, banging pans and ingredients around like it wasn’t...Rhys squints at the microwave to check the time, unsure of what it is. The glowing green numbers blurr, looking like they could be either a 7 or a 9. Either way, that is still  _ way _ too early for Rhys to be able to function without coffee.

Eventually, blessedly, the pot fills, and Rhys grabs greedily at it, almost dropping it in the process. Finally,  _ finally _ Rhys gets his sweet relief, in his favorite mug, with sugar and milk. So he plonks his ass down at the kitchen table, and watches Jack do... _ something _ with the food. Angel has wandered in sometime during that, falling asleep in her seat, head pillowed on her tiny arms. Rhys smiles sleepily at her, sipping his bliss in a cup.

Once he wakes up more, he gets up and wanders around the kitchen, fetching the orange juice, pouring two cups for he and Angel. Jack prefered lemonade like the weird man he was. So Rhys pours the last dredges of the lemonade into another cup, making Jack’s coffee after he does, and sets those on the table. He goes to get the plates and silverware, nudging Jack with a slim hip as he passes by. Jack grins at him, hands pausing in their movements for a brief second, before he looks down and resumes cooking what Rhys assumes to be breakfast.

He sets the plates and silverware down, making sure the table is tidy and he hasn’t forgotten anything, when Jack chuckles. Then there’s a wet smacking sound as something  _ thumps _ down on his shoulder. Rhys twitches, wondering if he dare look, or if he should just ignore it. Angel is still sleeping face down on the table.

“C’mon Rhysie, I made breakfast for you!” Jack says, the grin in his voice evident.

“Jack, what the hell-” Rhys doesn’t even finish his sentence as another— _ was that a waffle? _ —thing was shoved in his face.

“You’re a sexy waffle Rhysie!” Jack exclaims, a sarcastic grin on his face.

There’s syrup dripping down his shirt and face, and Jack grinning at him like a troll, eyes glinting. Rhys sighs and wishes he could go back to bed. 

**Author's Note:**

> this is a literal shitpost but im not sorry
> 
>  
> 
> [my tumblr](http://handsomejackisback.tumblr.com)


End file.
